Bloody Casanova!
by T0PH4T
Summary: Worm Self-Insert circa 2009 in Madison, WI.
1. Charm 1

Jesus _fuck _my head.

It's like someone's taken a cheese grater, a bag of nails and a chainsaw, got them high as _fuck_ on some quality methamphetamine, and then told them to go at it until someone's uglies broke. And it's all happening right. Between. My eyes.

Okay, normally fuck Benadryl and the whole painkillers-for-non-debilitating amounts-of-pain, but I might be willing to kill someone for some oxycontin right now. That, or or some ear plugs to drown out that horrid screeching. It's cutting away at my nerves like a hacksaw and I can feel myself slowly becoming more murderous. I'm going to find the person who set this up and tear them a new one...

Seriously, what the fuck is happening? I go to bed, start dreaming of about whatever it is people dream about (anyone who says they remember REM sleep is a filthy lying liar that lies) and **BAM**! Symphony of pain. Okay, step one, gather information. Then start thinking about shit. Rationalize the process.

Light lances through my eyes (oh, I didn't have them open?) and the first sight upon my awakening is an angel maybe three times taller than me with an asymmetric set of wings. Then a black blur slams into it and some _painfully_ bright lasers hit the angel. Neither of them seem to do much, but the noise is deafening. Doesn't cut out the keening-

Oh fuck me sideways I'm in the Wormverse. That's Alexandria and Legend fighting the Simurgh. And I'm underneath them all.

Okay fuck step one. Step zero is **run**. I have no idea how long I've been exposed to Ziz shenanigans and I don't know if people are still on the whole 'kill first, ask questions never' plan for dealing with Simurgh victims. Time to survive and figure everything out in post.

I drag my sorry skinny ass to my feet, and decide to take exactly one second to figure out where the hell I is. The answer is a ruined city filled with knocked over buildings and noise as a dozen different capes fight against the space-whale WMD above my head. The sounds of attacks striking the Endbringer and the debris around it is deafening (literally, I'm 90% sure I'm going to be out an octave of aural range after this shit) but that's fucking sunshine and daisies compared to the _afterbirth of the coupling of an angle grinder and a power lathe that is this noise!_

Oh fuck, that's the Simurgh's song.

Fuck, how much time do I have? Twenty minutes or some shit? Something like that. Why the fuck am I not running? Fixing that.

It's cold, running. Cold, dry, and the ground is _covered_ in snow. Upside: cold is great for running. Downside: running is harder because I have to stomp through an inch or three of slippery cold in my bare feet as I try to get through the broken as shit streets with debris and random cape attacks falling around me (was that an actual kitchen sink? No, Tinkertech, _run faster!_).

Wait, bare feet? My nipples are turning to diamonds in the freezing air and the breeze around my privates...

I manage to get out a laugh around the strained breath and rapidly intensifying stitch in my side. _Of course_ I'm naked! I mean, _why the fuck not_? Why would anything about being inserted into the Wormverse be positive?

Wait.

I allot myself one second of hoping that I have a power. Passenger, if you're there I need you. Let me fly the fuck out of here.

Chaos, crashing, and wheezing as I stomp through the snow.

Nope, no fucking powers. Okay, find a bright side fast or else the Big Zizster is going to convince me to off myself.

So, interesting thing about running through a ruined city? It's a lot of fun, in the 'holy-shit-I-can-die-at-any-moment' way, sorta like skiing way too fast down a slightly-too-difficult mountain. Foot on that block of concrete so that I'll have the height to get over a broken-down car, stutter step so the momentum's there for a leap over a crack in the ground, last minute skip to get over some shattered glass, juke right and push off a wall to break line of sight with a group of capes that may or may not be be acting as a kill-squad...

Fuck fuck fuck. I put more power in my step and keep running.

* * *

A few minutes later and the song is a little less painful. I'm so out of breath it's actually laughable (like, I'm actually laughing in between every wheezing breath, and about one in three sounds genuinely happy rather than hysterical. Not a good thing, right?) but I'm not currently in close proximity to the second most dangerous thing on the planet anymore, so I'll count that as a win. Time to take a breather. Just need to scan the surroundings for anything dangerous. I go inside a relatively intact building, go up some stairs, and lean against a second story window, luxuriating in the slightly-warmer-than-outside temperature.

No clothes inside. Fucking proliferation of hipster coffee shops.

Okay, what do my elf eyes see? A ruined city, one with a seriously intense aerial battle above it. Still fucking loud. Capes? No capes super close by. At least, no one without a Stranger rating. Can never be sure with those fuckers. Super-scary-angel-of-madness-and-death? Ol' Featherbrain is off in the distance, and seems to be paying exactly no attention to me. Thank fucking god. Like, I _might_ have enough knowledge to fuck up her plots but that might be part of her plot too. She seems to be playing on the same level as PtV. Lets see, do we have any Ziz-crazed citizens walking around? Nope, just four boys and a trio of girls (two of which are being carried piggyback) running away from the ruin of skyscraper.

Awwww, fuck.

Damnit, I need more time to think out the fucking butterflies! Sure, I could kill Trickster or Noelle (actually, I'd probably need to kill all seven of them, they're still decent friends with one another right now and _fuck _I escalated to murder fast), but what does that mean? Coil's plans change because he's down four A-listers, Cauldron doesn't get revealed because Echidna doesn't happen. Do the Nine even show up to Brockton Bay? I'm pretty sure that Crawler only came because he wanted to pick a fight with Noelle and that's not even counting the _invisible_ shit that I don't remember. Plus the three or four years before they get to Brockton Bay and all the people that don't die because Noelle needs some fucking munchies.

Seriously. Fuck. Me. Sideways. I need like, five years before I start thinking about fucking up a time stream. Why couldn't I have been dropped off in Europe- wait, right, Nazis. How about Australia? Seems nice. Just go there, say Contessa a bunch of times, and info dump Cauldron. But _Noooooo_, I get to run into the most morally ambiguous group of capes in Worm and I have to figure out what I'm going to do right now with next to no forethought _and I'm still fucking naked!_

Rant more about the unfairness of the situation later, plan now. Do I see any possible future where approaching them in the buff works? No. Do I see any reasonable future where I do _nothing_? No. So time to do my best Solid Snake impression (or was it Big Boss? Lore in that game is more convoluted than the fucking X-Men timeline) and be super fucking sneaky.

As I get closer, I realize that an actual cardboard box would probably be enough to stay hidden from them. They're bloodied, terrified-out-of-their-minds high schoolers fleeing monsters after being torn from their home dimension. Meanwhile, I am a naked college student who is _only_ scared shitless. I jog about a block parallel to them, close enough to make out faces but too far for sound to carry.

Or maybe it's that _damn singing in my head_ that's distracting me from their conversation!

So they keep running, stop to meet a cape who was thrown out of the sky, and I get to watch him warn them away, motioning for them to flee. Why? Then the man's head explodes, covering half of them in cherry-red blood.

Well fuck I do _not_ remember this chapter of Worm.

Something goes **bang** off in the distance and I turn to look at it. There's a wave of shattering windows and I duck into a partially-intact bus shelter before I get lacerated. Then the shock wave hits and everyone gets knocked over. Once I get up, I look back at the battle and _apparently the Simurgh opened up a portal and shit's coming through it what the actual golden FUCK?_

Okay, scrapping plan Follow-The-Incipient-Travelers for plan Stay-The-Fuck-Alive. Monsters end up by us, and apparently the teenagers have the same priorities. Wonderful. We all start sprinting in the same direction as the lovechild of an alligator and Cthulhu decides that it wants a snack and starts trying to eat a hybrid necromorph/lobster/gorilla/whatever as even _stranger_ shit continues to pour out of the portal.

My legs begin to make themselves known through the shock (it's not shock, just fucktons of cortisol and adrenaline, get your shit together) and I curse my past self for not hitting up a treadmill more often even as I try to squeeze out another little bit of speed and maintain my balance. Fuck, I need some fucking _clothes_.

Then the Travelers duck into an alley and something _warbles_ (not the Simurgh's scream and fucking A _there it is again!_) and my knees go weak. I drop and vomit a green bile onto the ground. Crap. Means I don't have anything in my stomach. Going to need to refuel somehow. Then there's some more scrabbling through the snow. Travelers must be on the move again. It's not that hard to keep up with them but keeping track of them _and_ the monsters that occasionally show up _and_ the various attacks that manage to escape the battle _and _the length of time I've been in the Simurgh sphere (like, ten minutes, minimum) _while _dealing with this fucking song IS A LITTLE TAXING.

Then a golden light flows over me and I feel myself _stop_ for a second. Oh shit, did the Golden Boy just clap-of-death us all? Nope, brain still working and heart still beats. But the portal's gone now and the teenagers have started bickering. Can't hear them over the epic fight behind me but now's a good time to get closer.

Whatever it was they were arguing about they're done now, and they're back to moving. The girl who isn't crippled (must be Sundancer, I think) tries to approach a more normal-looking monster and quickly backs off.

Shit. They're Case 53's, not monsters. The Simurgh just opened up a portal to Cauldron's research specimen lab.

I can't even begin to imagine how bad that is.

Fortunately, while my higher functions are busy trying to calculate the odds of finding a Trump 10 that can give me consequence-free powers among the freaks (approximately _zero_), my animal hindbrain is running the meat sack and has kept me following the Travelers. At this point my toes are all numb and wrinkly and I really need some goddamn shoes.

The Travelers come to a chain link fence and shout at the armed guards, who shout back. It's all indistinct from a few hundred feet away, but the gist is probably 'help us' and 'fuck off Ziz zombies!' Then the Travelers start moving back into the city, find a beat-up-as-shit house, and I take this as an opportunity to _find some goddamn pants._

* * *

First: I will freeze before I wear these pink yum sweatpants. Second: how the _fuck_ are these the only salvageable, non-disgusting clothes _in the entire surrounding area?_ Seriously, the fuck Big Zizster? You couldn't throw me a fucking bone?

Lack of clothes aside, I did manage to acquire a pair of woolen sock and some hiking boots, so my feet won't freeze. That, and I managed to find a knife I like in someone's kitchen. Just in case.

I move to an alleyway that lets me see the entrance to the house the Travelers are holed up in and take a minute to _think_ about what the fuck I should do.

I can't do _nothing_. A lot of people are going to die if Noelle becomes Echidna, and I don't think I can be okay with that. Okay, never mind, that's is the wrong way to think. What is the end goal? Make sure Golden Morning happens, Scion dies, and try to see if the Winged One can bite it too. What do I need for that? The QA shard unlocked by a broken Shaper shard. Panacea will trigger in like...

Fuck, don't know the time. She triggers like two years before canon (I think?) so just don't fuck shit up in Brockton Bay. Either way, that part will be fine. Pretty sure I won't be moving there anytime soon. Part two is making sure Taylor is a hard-ass with bug powers. That's going to happen no matter what, and I don't remember the Traveler Arc being much of a deal compared to-

Fuck, gunfire. Oh wait, just a bunch of Case 53's approaching the fence and getting cut down by the military for being freaks experimented on Cauldron.

Like, fuck, yeah your plan worked but _goddamn_ did it have a cost, you soulless bastards.

Anyway, Taylor-hardening. That can be any number of things as long as they suck and Taylor survives. So I don't _think_ I have to worry about that. Giving Eidolon a pep-talk might be a good idea to keep him from pussing out like a bitch when Scion does the whole 'congratulations, you played yourself' thing but that falls under 'things I can worry about _after_ I makes sure I haven't royally fucked the timeline'.

Also, stay alive. Plan numero uno. Gotta look out for number one. Plan numero dos is be happy. So the fate of Earth Bet is like, plan three? Or is it priority three?

Okay, preliminary method of action: follow Krouse, because I'm 99% sure he's the one that finds the vials. Decide what to do then and think about it some more.

I lean against the wall, decide against that when I remember that I'm naked and the wall is cold, and stand awkwardly in the shadows of the building holding a knife in one hand with the other dangling in the frigid fucking air.

I'm there for a solid ten minutes.

OH MY FUCK HOW LONG ARE THESE ANGSTY TEENS GOING TO BE BITCHING ABOUT?

I mean, am I a teen? Like, I was a week away from my twentieth birthday, so kinda not? I examine my reflection on the knife. Okay, so apparently I shaved recently and I don't have my glasses (yet _another_ fucking reason I have a migraine today!) and I look like seventeen.

Fuck, I am a teenager.

Okay, is this Ziz thinking or just me finally having time to realize I'm not in Kansas anymore?

And how long have I been in here?

Finally, they leave!

Shit...

So, instead of following _just Krouse_, I get to follow a teen that grows up into a wack job and two of his friends. One's Sundancer (can't remember her non-cape name) and the other is a guy. Either Oliver, Cody or Luke, not sure which one it is.

Le fuck.

Okay, situation not unsalvageable. I keep following them, making sure to stay a block or two behind and keep out of the deeper snow drifts. You'd think that'd be too close to tail someone but they keep throwing glances to their right at the fence like someone's going to shoot them through it which makes it easy to remain unseen on their left. That, and there's a TON of dust and mist and shit. Like, I could shadow fucking Alexandria in this mist. But she doesn't have super senses right? Just like, supertraining? Was never really clear on that.

Anyway, the kids do a lot of walking along the edge of the perimeter and I have my hands full trying to stay out of their gaze. A hop here, a jump there, and falling face first into a snow drift there (Too. Fucking. Cold.) and a lot of that _fucking_ noise (gonna remember this at Golden Morning, ya filthy feathered _bitch_) keeps me hidden from them. Does this make me a Stranger 0 or something?

It goes that way for too long (we're all probably 100% Ziz'd at this point) and then our wonderful little winterland jaunt is interrupted by someone (-thing?) screaming. Oh boy, a _fight_. Never been in a serious one but I figure now's the time to learn when I can blame it all on the big Zizster.

...that won't actually improve things, will it?

Anyway, the three decide to go off towards the screaming (because impulsive teenage behavior), and I have to run to keep up. There's enough snow around that my boots give me a decent advantage over the kids. That, and an extra few inches of leg length.

We're moving for maybe three minutes when we come upon the ruins of a fast food joint (McRonalds? Real original, WildeBorat). Inside are three Case 53's and eight people. Will these three plucky teenagers jump to the rescue? Or will they run away like sensible people and lead me to superpowers in a can? Actually though I don't remember this. May the odds be ever in your favor but I'm not sure how many people survive Endbringer attacks even when they're not also interdimensional refugees. Our Case-53's come in giraffe/praying mantis hybrid, a big, ugly woman, and something with a line-theme. No idea what they do but odds are good they'll fuck me up sideways.

Speaking of, Cauldron really fucked the dog on that one, didn't they? I mean, what's the point of making a brainwashed mutant army if you aren't going to send them at the monster you're trying to kill? Or were they there to throw Scion off the trial? Fuuuuuck my knowledge of Worm canon sucks. Also, fuck this is cold!

The Case 53's stop talking and the line person (a girl, I think?) goes up to one of the hostages and fucking _absorbs_ them. Some more talking that I can't make out and she goes to absorb one the ugly-woman Case-53 and _why are you attacking a cape Krouse?_

Krouse takes his makeshift spear, stabs the mantis motherfucker in the side, twists it, and _pulls_.

Holy fuck.

Then he does it again. I'm still too far to make out the sounds.

Hey, vomit tastes bad.

Krouse, you crazy shit.

Okay. Mantis guy Mountebanks the fuck outta there and the other two (Still not sure if the guy is Luke, Cody or Oliver) kind of ran off, not sure where to. Was a bit busy vomiting to pay attention. Then Krouse starts moving forward real confident-like to finish off the other pair of Case 53's. Then the cape he killed _comes back_ and gets one of those freaky scythe arms around Krouse's neck. They kick him around a bit and say some stuff that I can't hear but _fuck_ every part of getting closer to these crazy shits and would you look at that, Sundancer also decides that _attacking the cape as an unpowered person is a good idea_. Doesn't work out for her _nearly_ as well (gets pimp-slapped into a soda machine by the Brute-y looking person) and Krouse does something and the long-necked motherfucker gets a new mouth on his neck that's vomiting red and goes back into smoke and the maybe Cody/Luke/Oliver person is cowering in the back just like I'm cowering up here-

Wait what?

Doesn't matter, I have to move. Krouse is running away, and the Brute (gonna call her Brute) is pursuing. Never mind. Krouse isn't even out of that plaza and I'm barely off my knees when Brute catches him. He tries to stab her hand and his own splits open (Wound reflection? That might be _really fucking broken_ if I have to fight it). Then some guy in a robe and another guy in blue and silver power armor drop out of the sky.

Wait. Robe. Shit. Who pretends to be a wizard? Myrddin. Power armor. Who wears blue and silver?Armsmaster.

Fuck, two of the scarier capes just showed up.

I drop to the ground (_fuck_ the snow is cold) and keep my eyes trained on them. Both of these guys could ice me in a flat second. Myrddin waves his staff at Krouse and he disappears. What? Did Myrddin just send a person to the fucking _shadow realm_ or some shit? Armsmaster makes a cloud of smoke, Brute stagger back, and then _gets lit on fire_.

Damn, you a cold one Armsmaster. Also, back to the cowering?

Am I a coward?

Holy shit I'm a coward.

While I'm having my little pity party, Armsmaster throws a canister on the ground and puts some red tape around it, then he and Myrddin leave.

Then there's silence.

What the fuck?

Everyone is gone. The hostages bugged out, and the teenagers are gone too. It's just me on a mountain, looking at an empty plaza.

Okay. Time to start thinking. I move a little closer to the plaza, careful to keep low to the ground and out of sight, ducking between chunks of shattered city (jeez, they really did a number on this place). How do I live through the next few days? First, I need to get out of the containment zone. Given that I've been Ziz'd, I don't think they're going to allow me to just walk out. So I'm going to need powers. Ideally something that also lets me tank a hit, as well as move like a bat outta hell. So that means either triggering (like I have a shard in my brain, waiting to activate, HAH) or I need to filch a vial.

I settle in behind a rock, stare at the plaza, and _think_. So, Sundancer's power is probably useless. Like, it'll make something other than a sun for me (probably) but that doesn't get me out. So not that. Trickster's might give me a mobility power of some sort, so maybe. Fuck Ballistic's power. Like, it's broken as all shit but it doesn't get me out. Whatever vial Genesis took (I think Manton also took it?) might be useful so I'll keep that in mind. Cody's whole "flicker back in time" thing is probably worthless for escaping (and not actually time travel, just _really_ accurate simulations, like Coil's thing).

And I'm not sure what Noelle's vial was supposed to do. Like, it might be a Trump vial of some sort? But it also copies regular people, so where's the Master element?

Arggggggh where is a nerd when you need one!

Krouse comes back in and I mentally swear. I _still_ don't have a plan on how to deal with this shit. He takes all of five seconds to compose himself before sprinting into the cordoned off zone. Uh, that's not good. Rule seven of dealing with the scary alien superweapon: if they leave shit lying around, blow it up and kill everyone who came in contact with it, because it'll probably break you mentally. Lovecraft rules, dumbass. I follow behind (because I'm not sure what I'm going to do but it probably involves stopping this shit _somehow_).

Then Krouse opens up a metal case. Inside are six vials with Cauldron's logo on them.

Fuck.


	2. Charm 2

Okay. Decision time. I either let things stay the course, die in the containment zone, and deal with the results in whatever afterlife WanderBoggle thought up, or I kill a Ziz-bomb to get super powers.

Never mind, decision _made_.

Krouse closes the case and starts moving towards me. Finally, some luck! I stay still, keep quiet and get the knife ready. I suppress the shivers (would _really _like some fucking clothes here!) and when he's about a foot in front of me I leap out of the cover and jab forward.

See, I was going to be all clean and cut his throat but instead it's in his abdomen and he's screaming and trying to hurt me and I'm dragging up the knife to widen the wound and he's trying to claw at my face and _fuck you_ now I've got a head wound do you have any _idea_ how much those bleed and you're already dead because I've opened up you large intestine ("Don't pop Mr Stinky" some tortured part of my consciousness recalls from a conversation with Dad about dissection) and you're going to go into septic shock so sit down and _die!_

Krouse doesn't seem to want to accept his fate so I have to stick a hand in the wound and _ugh_ that feels weird and gross and I'm never cooking with this hand again but his hands end up around my neck and I bite his hand to get it off of me and he slams a knee into my side but it's weak and I get a thumb by his face and _press_ and he screams a little and _finally_ he falls over, leaving me with some _really_ bloody hands and blood all over me.

_Fuck_ killing people is messy. Then I stumble over to the nearest snowbank and start vomiting. Doesn't taste any better than the other time's I've vomited today but I think I'm throwing up less.

It takes a few minutes for the jitters to leave and _god_ it feels weird to suddenly have a body count. Like, _fuck_ these are extenuating circumstances if there ever _were_ any but man it doesn't feel good. Like, this guy works with Noelle to kill a whole lot of people, and the rest of the Travelers (except for Sundancer and Genesis, I think) aren't exactly angels but I think 90% of that is simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time taken to the _n_-th level.

Hey, more vomit.

After I'm done washing myself off with snow and getting rid of the vile taste in my mouth (clothes and food, things I need) I grab the metal case from beside Krouse's corpse and get moving. Armsmaster and Myrddin _did_ say something about a white phosphorus bomb and I happen to _like_ being alive.

It's a cold fucking walk, and a few minutes later I find a nice, secluded little coffee shop (oh my fuck _food_) where I can sit down and get to deciding which particular wheel of fate I'm going to spin. I get behind the display case, sit down, and examine the papers in the briefcase. Yada yada legalese, yada yada regenerative side effects, jack shit about what vial does what. Like, I remember that vials do different things depending on the subject (see Genesis and Manton) but there are supposed to be similarities, damnit! I've got Jaunt, Deus, Division, Robin, some weird mixture thingy, and Vestige, and I have no fucking idea what they do. Jaunt and Robin sound like Mover powers so gonna have to pass on that. Like, yeah, it's going to help GTFO'ing but I'm also going to need some survivability for when I fuck up and need to tank a few gunshots. Also gonna have to pass on the mixture, something about the very idea of being a Case 53 makes me hesitant to try something custom-made (maybe?) from Cauldron. So that's half the vials removed.

Hmm. Deus probably lets you create a minion of some potency, and while I like the idea of having that level of versatility and power (Genesis and Manton were both _crazy_ strong), creating a minion won't make _me _more durable. Still, putting it off to the side for later. I know a few people (_cough cough_ Jessica Yamada _cough cough _Glen Chambers) who could _really _use some fucking superpowers.

So that leaves Vestige and Division. Fuck. Which one did Noelle/Oliver take half of? Because creating hyper-loyal clones of any cape I touch while getting a bitchin' healing factor sounds OP and the other powers sound neat but not worth giving up a hyper-loyal army of capes. The names don't help a lot, either. Seriously, what was going through WelderBronze's mind? 'Division?' 'Vestige?''

Oh my fuck. If I get a shitty power because the naming conventions don't make any sense I am going to join the Nine and find a way back to wherever-the-fuck so I can strangle the WindingBallistae.

Okay. Problem solving time. Division. Means dividing. Knowing that Noelle made murder-clones, maybe she was 'dividing' herself off? That... kinda makes sense? Vestige would be reasonable if the clones were remnants of the individual rather than the full package. This is _really_ bad logic but I'm going to assume that Noelle drank Division so I don't waste too much time trying to put myself into the same mental state as a Canadian.

I take a look at the vial and stare at the amber depths. I do remember that you're supposed to take these on a medically empty stomach, but more time in this wasteland means more time where the Protectorate can find and kill me. So fuck that, vomiting twice will have to be enough. I think you're also supposed to be in a stable mental state but the odds of that happening are close to zero. I'll try to get some inner peace, or at least as much as I can when _some crystal bitch won't shut the fuck up_! The last piece of advice was to take it all in one go. That I can do.

I place the vial in front of me, wiggle a little to get comfortable, and let my head fall and my eyes close. I was never a fan of the whole lotus-position stuff but taking a quiet moment made dealing with the apes that claimed to be people in APUSH a hell of a lot easier. Seven counts in, hold for three, out for seven. In. Out. The rest of the world is just things happening. Boom off in the distance? Just happening. Six dumbass teenagers from an alternate earth who are probably going to die? Sucks to be them. Ziz song in your head that's like a trio of rusty hacksaws scissoring in an anatomically impossible way with your brain in the middle? Won't be able to murder her, so just deal with it.

I lose track of time as things fall away until the only thing left is the song, and even then it's not the worst. Just a thing that's happening. I am the epitome of chill. When I open my eyes, the world seems more colorful than it was. I pick up the vial, take off the top, and drink it all in one smooth motion, tucking in my chin to open up my throat.

Chill.

Then the burning starts.

Little bits of thermite start gluing themselves to the flesh of my throat and _god_ it's painful. Like, worse than that-time-I was-convinced-to-try-dangerously-hot-peppers painful. And unlike sensible pain, this shit _keeps on growing_. The bloody shakes keep appearing as my view of the world starts getting darker.

I have a brief moment of clarity where the pain becomes more than the Simurgh's song.

Then the vision starts.

Dead. Dead everywhere. Warped, crystalline, and dead dead dead. Another, different but the same not-species-but-close-enough observes, unhappy-but-unaware-of-happiness. Both vaster than vast, vast like Isaac Asimov and Ken Liu could only dream of, more complex than Einstein's most ridiculous models.

The visions leave and I come back down, pain gone and the Simurgh's song back. Fuck, was that a trigger vision? Man, no wonder people go crazy when they have powers.

Anyway, time to check out the goods.

First, my vision is normal again! It's like glasses without glasses! I stand up and flick the display case. It doesn't break. No Brute powers then. I place my hand flat against it and try to flex my mind. Nope. Not a Striker. I point my hand at a chair. "Pew pew pew," I say. When that doesn't do anything I try waving my hand around. Nope to Blaster and Shaker. I jump. And land. Not a Mover. I randomly try flexing my mind and think up a few math problems involving fourteen total digits, prime numbers, and division. Still can't solve them. Not a Master or a Thinker. Well, maybe a humans-only Master. I look at the coffee machine and try thinking of ways to repurpose it. Not a Tinker. Not that type of Tinker at least. I look at my arm and try to think about ways to improve it, and I see the pale blue veins on it writhe.

Okay.

That should disgust me, but honestly it would feel like being disgusted with my toenails. This is me. I form them into spirals, then flip my hand over and sharpen my fingernails. Neat. Not a wet Tinker then. A Changer of some sort. I prick the end of my other index finger with one of my newly sharpened nails. First: that's sharp. I don't even feel the cut. Second: the cut closes nearly instantly. Okay, maybe a Brute factor after all.

Then my stomach grumbles loud enough to echo in the empty shop. Right. Food. I grab a croissant, bite into it, and prepare myself for _the taste of ash and shit?_

I spit the once-chewed food out. What the actual _fuck_? I try another little treat. Coffee cake. Ash and shit. A stale donut. Stale ash and shit. An overpriced sandwich. Overpriced ash and shit. Once I've gone through everything edible I try some drinks. Smoothies are runny shit and bile. Tea tastes like sand in liquid form. Coffee tastes like dirt, and not like the kind of dirt it did before.

Okay, first downside discovered. Can't eat conventional food. I don't eat a lot so that's not a concern for now but I either need to find a palatable food source or get my hands on a _lot_ of nutrient drip.

"Who the fuck're you?" some voice asks, grumbly and angry.

"I 'the fuck' am none of your business!" I respond before common sense catches up with me.

Brain: WHAT THE FUCK MOUTH? I THOUGHT WE AGREED THAT I WOULD HANDLE THINGS!

Mouth: When did we ever agree to that?

Brain: First there was Frozen, then there was the series of incidents where you got us nicknamed 'incipient serial killer', and every single time we walk away from a conversation with a non-friend female we agree that _you can't handle the pressure_!

Mouth: YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO SO I GOT TO WORK!

Brain: WELL WE'RE FIGHTING NOW!

He's already charging me and I decide to cut back on thinking for a bit. Taller than me, with a length of metal pipe and foam at the edges of his mouth. Looks like not all Ziz bombs are as put together as Krouse. I run forward, and I can see the surprise in his eyes. It's not there for long though and he brings the pipe down from high left to low right.

I step into his range and claw at his stomach. His coat and shirt shred and I feel a little bit of flesh catch but then physics asserts itself and he bowls me over. Sometimes I hate being comfortably underweight. The wind rushes out of me and we're close, nose to nose, with my sharp hand trapped between us, his pipe gone, and him above me.

Fuck.

The first punch isn't much. Flailing more than likely. The second hurts less. On the third I catch his hand in my mouth and bite down, pulling away a few fingers.

_ohmygoditsdelicious_

The guy starts screaming and clutching his punching hand, which is bleeding way more than I think it should. Also, he's still straddling me and _why do I feel something poking into my stomach!?_

Okay. Enough of this shit. Sharp hands.

I scythe my hand up, attempting to carve a slice out of him. Instead I slap the side (_God_, I suck) of his neck and blood showers over me. He falls forward flat on top of me and I bite through his mouth in an awkward parody of a kiss.

_ohmygoditsdelicious_

I take another bite and then Brain and Mouth both take a backseat to Hunger.

Sometime later I come to my senses positively _caked_ in blood, surrounded by bloody rags and feeling wonderfully full. After far more effort than it should really take I sit up and scrub myself with some nearby snow, trying to get rid of the stickiness. Apparently I'm a cannibal now. Fucking. _Cauldron_.

Okay. Time to think. I'm in a city of Ziz bombs. If there ever was a time to experiment with powers that are lethal by necessity, now's probably it. Time to see the effects of eating a whole person. Also, I'm not hungry anymore? I wonder how it works. Do I have a pool of flesh I work through? Is there a cap and eating more people doesn't do anything? Can I eat a city of people and never be hungry again?

Holy hell I'm thinking about eating a _city_ of people. The Ziz hit me harder than I thought.

Time for introspection later. I pick up the pipe and briefcase of vials and start walking through the city. People people people, where are you my wonderfully acceptable targets?

Goddamnit. Respect. I need to remember that. Respect

After trudging through the cold for a few minutes I start thinking about searching _smarter_, not harder. Maybe I can get some super ears? A quick experiment just lets me hear a whole new range of noise. No sensitivity increase. Probably a good thing. I can't imagine hearing everything but LOUDER! Sight leaves me with a little headache. Okay, looking into the UV spectrum, not a good idea. Infrared is also not great, but a little more manageable. Something to think about in the future, though. Smell then? Nope. I can smell new things, but I can't make sense of them, can't separate the scents or connect them to anything else. Damn. Okay, brain power. Where would people be in a Ziz fight? Specifically, isolated, vulnerable people?

I slap my head. I know where _six_ are.

I decide to go after the Travelers first because 1) I knew where they were and 2) I knew that no one would mourn their passing. While I'm running I notice that I don't seem to be getting tired. Like, it takes effort to keep moving and all and it's not super pleasant but I'm not wheezing or anything, even after a few minutes of straight sprinting.

Did eating that guy give me a minor Brute rating? If so, does my power _scale?_

Jackpot. Except for the whole eating people thing, but there are viable targets in every city. Druggies, gangbangers, white-collar criminals, homeless people...

Yeah I don't anticipate running out of food anytime soon.

_Fuck_. I need to get a rubber band to snap every time I think about eating an innocent person. For now I slap myself across the face and _God_ does it hurt more than I think it should. The pain fades fast, though. A healing factor?

Once I'm back to the Traveler's house I shift back to my regular form and peek through a window. Sundancer is yelling at the boy that was with Krouse and her, the boy is yelling at Sundancer, another boy and a girl are off on the side watching the shitshow, a third girl is lying on a couch sleeping, and the last guy is resting in an armchair with his leg up, not saying much. While I could go in there and try to eat them, I've still got too many unanswered questions about my powers. So, ambush time.

I retreat to the alleyway and settle in for a wait. Still chilly. Can I make myself more cold-resistant? A few experiments with increasing the layering of my skin gets me nice and toasty (too toasty, actually, I cut back a little to keep the steam down) and it kills time until the door opens and Sundancer walks out. Alone.

Yeah, hiding is great, but at the end of the day they'll need food and medical supplies. Plus, you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Someone's going to want a break from arguing with people they're socially obligated to be close to but don't actually like. So they'll go for a walk, citing 'scavenging' or 'securing the perimeter' as their reason.

I should know. I've had a lot of practice leaving groups.

I keep up with her for a few blocks, a barely-there figure obscured by the mist. The snow is powdery enough that there's almost no crunch under my boots. Even with the frequent glances back she doesn't seem to notice me.

She stops by a building, looks up at the sign and enters. I close in. A pharmacy with big glass windows. Not perfect, but it'll work. I walk into an alleyway and burrow into a snowdrift, dragging a little snow over my head. Hypothermia bait for anyone without a Brute rating. With one, some of the best natural camouflage in the world.

This isn't a great plan. Sundancer could leave through another door or spot my ruse and try to fight me, and being on the ground is really close to being dead in a fight. Or at least that's what people who actually fight/have talked to people who actually fight say.

On the other hand, Sundancer is cold, mentally and physically exhausted from seeing multiple people die, and probably depressed from the Song. She'll fall back on habit, which is retracing steps to get back home.

I'm feeling good about my chances. And feeling shitty about actually doing it.

Sure enough, the door squeaks open a few minutes later. Sundancer. Snow crunches quietly, coming closer and closer to my alley way. I wait while manually keeping my heart rate down. Patience.

She passes by, her weapon is in her right hand. I catch sight of a plastic bag filled to the bursting. Probably medicine, bandages and sutures. Maybe I'll hang onto it.

No. Less thinking about the aftermath. Through that path lies regret and not eating.

One movement to get up. One step forward. Sundancer is already turning. One more movement, pipe to the side of her head. She drops like a sack of bricks.

Wow, that was easy. No wonder people never do fair fights.

I loop my arms under hers and drag her back into the alleyway, carefully keeping her head off the ground. No sense in hurting her.

Anyway. Eating.

I lean over her. Her skin is pretty clear. Not like shampoo-commercial clear, but like "I know how to take care of my body" clear. And she looks gaunt, like she's been working too hard. Makes sense, the past few hours must have been stressful.

I shake my head. Focus. Eat. You need the power, and the Travelers will break the world. If you can eat _anyone _here, it's these guys.

I lower my head down, teeth over her neck. Then I stop. No, biting into someone's neck has all sorts of connotations I don't want. I think about awkwardly biting into her stomach before dismissing that idea too. Too weird. I lift one of her hands, isolate a finger, close my eyes, and-

Holy shit I can hear myself think.

Holy shit the Simurgh is gone.

_Shit_ that mean that the heroes are going to be running damage control soon.

_Shit_ I just tried to _eat and innocent person. _And planned to _eat their friends too_.

I runaway, barely keeping enough presence of mind to hang onto the briefcase, and just start moving towards the border. Fuck fuck fuck what do I even say to that? It seemed like a good idea at the time?

I don't feel the urge to vomit. I blame it on a nearly-empty stomach.

I keep running and try thinking of ways to spin this. Of people who would take in a Ziz bomb with no papers or powers besides a mild Brute rating fueled by eating people and some shapeshifting.

I don't come up with any.

I get three more meals on the way out. One old man, one boy who's seen way too many McRonald's, and a rather pretty redhead. The old man tries to ambush me and I cut open his throat with a slash of my nails. After swallowing down as much of him as I can ethically be okay with I loot the rest of his corpse. Two hundred dollars in cash, a broken phone, and some ID's. I take the cash and leave the rest.

The obesity poster child charges me in the middle of the street, waving around a two-by-four. A step and a stab later and my body count is up. Not sure I like how easy that was, but another meal.

I chew on one of his fingers for a solid minute before giving up. It's like gristle on meat, or the fatty tissue on the edge off a bad steak: inedible. I spit out the flesh and process the new piece of information: lean meat only. Wonderful. That means I can't just load up on some four-hundred pound whales and try to minimize the body count. Not without making myself sick. Bright side, I'm up one Protectorate-brand hero backpack. Not sure which one, I'll have to figure it out later.

The red head is wandering around in the middle of the street, shellshocked. I wave at her. No response. I step closer, not and arms-length away, and reach for her.

She spins, a manic energy in her eyes, and I feel a line of fire across my chest. Then I see the knife, tip red with blood, coming in for the backswing. Nope. I catch the blade with one hand and poke her in the throat, then hug her arms to her sides as the blood flows over my shoulder and her struggles get weaker and weaker and weaker...

When she stops moving I inhale and _ohmygoditsmellsdelicious_ and I think about not eating her and I inhale again and _ohmygoditsmellsdelicious _and maybe a bite wouldn't hurt and I try to eat only the redhead's hands and arms, but the Hunger starts creeping around my visions and

_ohmygoditsdelicious_

When I wake up I feel something new information floating around in my head. I try pushing at it and feel my body changing. Specifically, I feel my chest moving out and my junk shrinking. Nope. Not going there. I pull _away_ from the newness, reset my body (fortunately, it seems to _want_ to do that) and examine what's left of the bloodstained clothing.

Upside: I have a pair of jeans! Downside: they're women's jeans, the skinny ass-hugging type that has pockets for show and not for use and now has a few bloodstains by the top. That, and the end of the legs look a little... chewed. Still salvageable though. A little snow takes care of the blood and I can wear them without being too uncomfortable, but going commando in what is essentially jean leggings is a _unique _experience. I haven't had to take a dump yet so I'm not worrying about skid marks but the feel of denim on the boys is not the most comfortable thing in the world.

Still don't have a shirt because I'm not growing a pair of boobs large enough to fit the blouse that the girl was wearing. Like, _damn_.

I mean, I could try _no no no_, down that path lies madness. Just wait to find a shirt.

The border is not nearly as well manned as it was during the attack so I sprint past the now-bored guards easily. Hurry up and wait, that's the military's motto, right? Well, they aren't guarding the treeline very well and I slip by them pretty fast. I probably shouldn't have been able to do that, but this is what, the Simugh's fifth appearance or something? I think she only appeared in 2005, so maybe people just don't know how to contain places. Yet.

I keep running for a loooooong time. Now that I'm hitting what I'm going to call car-level speeds it's actually fun to just _move_. If running felt like this all the time I would've picked it up before I had superpowers. Then I catch sight of some lights off in the distance. Civilization!

Wait. I quash the joy and the Hunger (fucking passenger, can you at least wait for a few months while I get set up?) and try to think smart.

The Protectorate is going to be looking for refugees. Can't have crazy Ziz bombs running around wrecking the economy and all. So, the nearest town is where the authorities would start their search, followed by the next nearest town to catch all the slightly smarter people. Therefore, the real way not to get caught is to go south, rob a bank for at least a few million dollars, go across two state lines, and plan from there.

Okay, going in _this_ direction until I can find a wilderness store I can loot for a compass, a map and _some goddamn underwear_!


End file.
